


Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 9

by I_am_lampy



Series: After All These Years [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Naughty Sherlock, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_lampy/pseuds/I_am_lampy
Summary: Sherlock and John are called to Lestrade's office for a missing person's case but the DCI is in a meeting. Sherlock finds a good use for their time while they wait.





	

"He's just in a meeting with the superintendent, sir," Lestrade's assistant said to Sherlock and John when they went to see him about a missing persons case. "It'll be about ten minutes. Do you want to wait in his office?"

"That would be fantastic," John said, smiling.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?"

"Actually, no," Sherlock said and began ushering John into the office. "In fact, we're going to be looking over some very sensitive information. Please make sure you knock before letting anyone in. Thank you!"

As soon as they were inside the office, Sherlock lowered the blinds.

"What are you doing?" John asked, frowning. "We don't have any sensitive info – "

Before he could finish his thought, Sherlock had him up against the wall, tugging his shirt out of his trousers and sliding his hands inside said trousers.

"Sherlock – you –  _ah_ – " John said, leaning into Sherlock's hand, which had found its mark.

"You're quite responsive this morning, aren't you?" Sherlock asked and then wrapped his other arm around John's waist as the hand currently down John's trousers stroked him quickly up and down

"You cannot give me a – _ah_ – stop! If we get caught – "

"She said ten minutes. That's more than enough time for me to finish you off."

"I think you've just insulted me," John gasped out, thrusting into Sherlock's hand.

"I can make it quicker if you want?" Sherlock said, going for casual but looking devilish.

"You _wouldn't_ ," John hissed, his eyes wide, when Sherlock stepped over to the door and locked it.

"Oh, I think we both know the answer to that," Sherlock said and got down on his knees in front of John.

They had been together almost four months. Sherlock hadn't had even one orgasm their first two months together. He had always focused on John and shied away from receiving his own pleasure.

And then one night, John had put his foot down and then he had gotten down on his knees and given Sherlock his first orgasm in – well, _ever_ really as Sherlock's last one had been for the purposes of storing his sperm. Over the next two months, they had gotten gradually more comfortable with their sexual relationship, unlocking all those secrets about each other that only lovers knew. The spots on their bodies that elicited the sweetest sounds. The looks and words that could excite each other without even touching. They had learnt to play with each other, had figured out what turned each other on and what doused the mood. They had found the magic word, or touch, or position that always got the best results.

They had also uncovered the other's darkest secrets, the things they wanted but were embarrassed to say.

"Do _not_ unbutton my – Sherlock!" John hissed.

Sherlock released John's erection from his pants, licking his lips. He looked up at John.

"I think we'll go with the Beethoven Violin Sonata No. 9, don't you?" Sherlock said.

Sherlock's mind was always busy and when there was no work to be had, he found other, less useful things to do with it. He had sat in the sitting room one night with John while they had their evening cup of tea and asked John to list his fantasies – things he would enjoy doing with Sherlock, even if they were a bit _much_ and then Sherlock had done the same. When he compared the two, he discovered several interesting things.

Sherlock was naughty but John was _very_ naughty.

The only problem was that John was _shy_. He was buttoned up, as Sherlock had pointed out two months ago. He would never have _asked_ for any of those things no matter how happy Sherlock was to give them.

So Sherlock had assigned each of their sexual fantasies the name of one of his favorite solo pieces for the violin. That way, nobody had to break the mood by saying _now pretend like you're a sailor_ or _will you slap my arse and call me a slut_? Instead, one just used one of the code names and it was done and nobody was embarrassed and the mood was whipped into an even hotter one.

"Sherlock, I can't," John said almost plaintively.

Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 9 was one of John's milder fantasies but still less likely to be carried out despite its moderate content because it involved getting a blowjob from Sherlock in a public place whilst the two of them pretended Sherlock was a whore with a heart of gold and John was a rapacious and beastly punter. The source of John's hesitance to engage in this fantasy were the words _public place_. Sherlock had saved it for just such a moment.

"She said ten minutes with the superintendent, John. It's at least a five minute walk. _Come on_. You know you want to," Sherlock said, his hand stroking John with lazy, purposeful strokes.

Sherlock pushed out his bottom lip in the most outrageous approximation of a pout but it worked wonders on John, though for the life of him Sherlock couldn't figure out why.

"I have a dirty, dirty mouth, sir, and it needs to be stuffed with – "

John had already dug his fingers deep into Sherlock's thick, dark hair and plunged himself deep into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock hummed his pleasure around John's shaft, never getting tired of looking up at John and watching his warm, kind stormy blue eyes turn positively _profane_. There was a devil in that man and Sherlock loved to call him out to play.

Sherlock had learnt the delicious art of deep-throating. John's penis, though not overly large, was still considerably bigger than Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock wanted John to feel free to pleasure himself using Sherlock and his mouth and to do that, John needed to be able to trust that he wasn't going to hurt Sherlock or, potentially worse, make him throw up.

So Sherlock had taught himself how to deep-throat. He was a scientist and scientists did experiments to find how things worked. So experiment he did. On bananas. On cucumbers. He had purchased one of those very lifelike dildos and experimented on that. And then, finally, on the man himself.

"You dirty little slut," John whispered furtively above Sherlock's head.

Sherlock almost gagged himself trying to laugh with John's cock in his mouth.

"This was your idea," John hissed, laughing.

"Oh, yes, sir, because I am a dirty little slut, remember?" Sherlock said, causing them both to giggle. "Now get on with it. We have seven and a half minutes before Lestrade gets here and that's _with_ the five minute walk."

Sherlock tilted his head up to look at the ceiling so his throat was elongated. One of the tricks of deep-throaters everywhere, he thought proudly.

"Dirty little sluts love big cocks," John said softly and Sherlock watched John's eyes start their journey from warm, kind, Dr. Watson to filthy, lecherous, Dr. Watson. _Oh!_ Sherlock thought. _Doctor and patient!_ Why hadn't they already thought of that?

John got a tighter grip on Sherlock's hair and began thrusting himself into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock felt himself getting hard. He risked a glance down at his watch. Perfect. Seven minutes left.

"I bet you don't even come out here for the money," John whispered, still in character. It didn't quite have the same effect as when he actually said it, especially when he was really working Sherlock's mouth and grunting with the effort. "You probably just come out here to suck cock."

Sherlock agreed with a wordless hum, knowing how much John liked the vibration around his penis.

"You're fucking gorgeous, you are," John said and Sherlock looked away from the ceiling to John's eyes with surprise.

That wasn't part of the script. John's eyes were still profane but it was a tempered profanity. His eyes became unbelievably dark when he was deep in the heat of lust like that. They were a dark blue-grey normally, breathtakingly beautiful, at least Sherlock thought so. But when he was aroused, John's eyes turned from blue-grey to an indigo-black that made Sherlock's whole body sing.

He loved those eyes. He loved those eyes when they were laughing and when they were smiling. He loved them when they were sad or dull with fatigue. He loved them when they were angry, frustrated, or annoyed.

He loved them when they looked back at him like that showing a love so deep that not even the most brutal fantasy play could completely erase how much Sherlock was loved by John.

But time was of the essence. He checked his watch. _Shit_. Four minutes.

Sherlock corkscrewed his mouth up and down John's length and John's eyes closed momentarily with pleasure.

"You're such a fucking slut," he murmured, drunk on it now, drunk on lust, drunk on Sherlock's mouth around his cock. "You love having your mouth fucked, don't you? Like a bit of big cock in your mouth, eh?"

There it was. Now he was getting into it. Sherlock checked his watch again. _Two minutes_. Christ, this one was going to be close.

"Love it when I shove it down your throat. I bet you love to milk the punters dry. Sucking down spunk all day long, pretending it's for the money when really it's just 'cause you love big – _oh_ – "

 _Annnnnnd_ … _time_ …thought Sherlock as John's _spunk_ pulsed straight down Sherlock's throat. Deep-throating offered another benefit – one got to bypass the taste of semen altogether as it just went straight down the shaft. (Pun totally intended).

Sherlock drew back off of John's penis, licking up all the last bits of his semen, not wanting to spot his trousers with it. He tucked John away still half-hard and then pulled himself up using John as support. Damn creaky knees.

"My mouth?" Sherlock asked, meaning _do I have any of your issue staining my face_.

"Beautiful," John murmured and kissed him while zipping up.

"Yes, well," Sherlock said primly, sitting down. "It took you long enough."

John collapsed in the other chair and laid his head back, letting out one long sigh. He reached for Sherlock's hand who held it in his lap and they grinned at each other, two very bad boys out on a very naughty adventure.

Then the doorknob rattled and they heard Lestrade's voice shout, "Angela! Why the bloody hell is my office locked?"

Sherlock sprang up from his chair and unlocked the door, letting a confused and permanently harassed DCI Lestrade into his office.

"Must have accidentally twisted it when I was shutting the door, Greg," Sherlock said completely guilelessly. "My bad."

"Why did you close the door in the first place?" Lestrade asked, looking at Sherlock. Then his eyes flicked to John who pasted his on his _I'm just a mediocre and uninteresting person_ face that worked so well at getting suspects and witnesses to talk. Greg's face was going white as he said, "Please, just. Not in my chair?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lestrade," Sherlock said, frowning. _He's so good_ , John thought. Sherlock could lie himself into or out of just about anything. "We've been sitting here for fifteen minutes waiting for you to get here. I may not work for Her Majesty's Government, Lestrade, but my time is still very valuable to me. You told me to be here at nine and here we were at nine. Where were _you_?"

Greg narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and John took the opportunity to look down at his feet because while Sherlock could lie himself into or out of anything, John could not.

"I hope this missing persons case is worth the time we've been waiting for it," Sherlock said huffily and threw himself into the other chair facing Lestrade's desk and then, while Lestrade was muttering to himself and digging around on his desk for the pertinent case file, Sherlock turned to John and said, "A lovely sonata, though, don't you think? Very professionally done."

"Oh, yes, very," John said, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> I always welcome emails from readers about ANYTHING that tickles your fancy.
> 
> archiveofMYown@gmail.com


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